


He's Forgotten

by thelonebamf



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-03
Updated: 2009-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sentimental story about Snake's last days. Post MGS4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Forgotten

He’s forgotten they’ve seen this before.

At least, it seems that way. This is one of those movies that always seems to play on basic cable at odd hours. There were those nights when they were both awake, too tired to do any work, but unable to sleep. Those were the nights the television was turned on, the channel never changed, and the two of them were the captives of whatever B-movies and infomercials the television gods saw fit to bestow on them. This movie in particular, though, they must have sat through five or six times over the years. The jokes have long since worn thin. The plot twist has been unraveled. And yet, there sits Dave, his eyes crinkling at the hackneyed plot, his deep laugh mixing with Sunny’s giggles. She’s never seen this movie before.

Hal thinks he’ll need to talk to her soon.

He’s forgotten about the coffee machine.

The acrid smell of burning something reaches Hal at his desk, bringing with it a string of curse words, and the sharp shudder of ceramic as it hits the floor. The engineer rushes to the kitchen to see a caffeine pool on the floor, and Dave is there, looking both annoyed and ashamed. It’s a tricky machine; you have to hold it just so when you remove the pot from its place, otherwise the grounds spill out and make a mess. Hal reaches out to flick the switch, extinguish the heating element. Dave pads out in a sulk, careless of the shards on the floor despite his bare feet.

Hal thinks they should switch to instant.

He’s forgotten why they’re here.

After everything was over it was Hal who decided they should move. Out of the Nomad. Out in the open. He couldn’t pretend he needed to hide Sunny for her own good, and Dave deserved to enjoy a little comfort while he still had time. So they’d moved. They came to some little suburb, the same as so many others, and they’d settled down. Sunny decorated her room in an epileptic spectrum of colors. Dave’s room is plain, but Hal’s is even simpler. He hasn’t bothered to unpack much of his personal paraphernalia. Part of him wonders if he’ll be able to stay… after. It is difficult, these days, the days he knows to be his best friend’s last. Hal has had little time to adjust to seeing a man he’s come to equate with strength succumb to the thieving hands of old age. The only mercy, if you can call it that, about the situation is that at least for Dave, the indignities will be brief. 

These days he’ll occasionally catch Dave looking around as though there’s something about the place that doesn’t fit. Well, that’s true enough. After a lifetime sleeping in bunks, barracks, or on the floor, having a bed with sheets would seem strange. There’s even a comforter with little flowers on it. One afternoon he finds the ex-soldier staring at a cushion on the sofa. They never had cushions for any of the furniture they owned during their days in Philanthropy, and he doubts Snake had any use for them in the past. Finally his friend turns his distrustful gaze to the room they’re in, as though he’s not sure how they came to be here.

Hal thinks maybe Sunny would like the pillow in her room.

He’s forgotten who they are.

Jack, Rose and John come bustling through the door, gifts in hand. Sunny is shy at first, but in no time the two children become fast friends and are distracted with some contraption on the floor. Jack and Rose seat themselves at the table, chat happily about the weather, their trip here, and how good it is to see them all again. Dave says nothing, but keeps his eyes on them as though trying to assess whether they are trustworthy. Hal smiles, passes around a tray of prepackaged Christmas cookies, coaxes Sunny into giving Jack the gift they had bought for him. Rose carries on the small talk with Hal. Both she and Jack can sense something is wrong, but are polite enough not to say anything. At one point she places her hand on Hal’s shoulder, gives it a squeeze before walking away with a sad smile. Mei Ling is unable to make it; she’s so busy with her career these days, but she manages to call later that night.

Hal thinks it’s better not to put Snake on.

He’s forgotten everything.

Hal comes into the room slowly, carrying a tray with juice and toast, already knowing Dave won’t eat most of it. He exhales a breath he’s been holding for the last minute as he sees the gentle rise and fall of Dave’s chest below his sheets, knowing that at least today won’t be the day. He swallows hard as he sets the tray down, takes a seat on the edge of the bed and looks down at his old friend. Dave’s eyes are open wide, but slightly unfocused. His features are relaxed as he gazes at the ceiling, expression untroubled for the first time Hal can remember since he’s known the man. Even lying still as he is, it seems as though a great weight has been taken from his shoulders.

And Hal thinks he’s the happiest he’s ever seen him.

 

He’s forgotten me.

Hal’s eyes are closed as he imagines what Dave must be thinking. Does he even remember me? Philanthropy? The years after? He almost doesn’t notice the gentle weight of Dave’s head on his shoulder, a hand reaching over his and squeezing tight.

And Dave thinks, “I remember this.”


End file.
